Princess cat. Natalie Yacobson

go! Don’t go!» Some buzzing insects tried to fly into his ears. Brendan pushed them away with difficulty.

      The ground vibrated slightly beneath his feet. The fields suddenly seemed alive and breathing, as if a giant were slumbering beneath the rye, but Brendan would be swept away like a gnat as soon as he got up. Maybe we really shouldn’t have come in here.

      Yeah, what was wrong with him? Didn’t he think he was the bravest when he made jokes about uncle’s ministers?

      «Silly fellow, you don’t even know who sleeps under the field!»

      There was no scarecrow around this time. So the voice came either from the void or from a large black bird that was circling over the fields.

      It’s all Ephigenia’s jokes, Brendan consoled himself again. Though she remains in the king’s castle, her evil power extends far beyond it. We must hurry. The more miles he walked, the weaker her sorcery would become. My uncle had the misfortune to tangle with a witch! If Brendan could find a wizard along the way, he would ask him, just for the fun of it, to bewitch his uncle the King with Ephigenia. In this way he would settle his debts and grievances. The uncle would find himself forcibly married to a witch, and he would think nothing of meddling in other people’s private lives in the future.

      Although, they say, magic is not so simple. You can’t always make a magical plan work the way you thought it would. Sometimes things go wrong. And magical failures can even lead to the destruction of the world, according to the words of the wise men.

      Brendan noticed that the spikes in the fields were regular to the touch instead of golden. He must have done well not to pluck anything. Sometimes it pays to listen to warnings.

      He didn’t listen to the last warning, since he’s wandering around looking for a castle. Well, the castle is not the fields. You can’t conjure up strange vegetation underfoot like that. The field was changing. First there was wheat and rye, now barley and beanstalks, on which live creepy biting bugs. These bugs also shine brighter than fireflies. And up ahead are vineyards and cornfields. Had someone conjured this place up by mixing all the plant crops?

      Brendan picked one cob of corn because his empty stomach was already rumbling with hunger. Instead of corn kernels, real gold coins spilled from the cob. They tinkled and fell right under his feet. More and more of them, as if the earth had bred them.

      No, he wouldn’t fall for that. Pick them up, and the coins would be yellow grains again. Maybe he should pick some up after all. He has no money on him, and he has a long way to go.

      Brendan leaned over and picked up a handful of coins. These are the real ones! Only the coinage was unfamiliar. The tails have a feline profile, and there’s a claw print instead of a coat of arms. Good thing gold is valuable anyway, no matter whose mint the coats of arms were minted from. Brendan slipped the coins into his pocket and felt the fields beneath his feet as if they sighed and twitched. Something moved beneath the ground, as if an army of monsters were rising from there.

      Where to run to now? Brendan felt something like a tourniquet wrap around his wrist and begin to squeeze. It was a living vine! It clung so tightly that it nearly tore his arm off. As soon as he was free of it, many other vines crawled toward him like hissing snakes.

      Brendan jumped from his seat and ran. The swift vines darted after him, trying to grab his legs. Coins fell from the corn again, but there was no time to pick them up. The vines were determined to trap the fugitive. Brendan barely dodged their grip, and they hissed grudgingly. Here he passed corn fields, and fields of peas. Ahead of him was an empty, unseeded field. As he ran into it, the vines suddenly retreated, hiding in the shade.

      Were they afraid of the uncultivated land? Brendan looked back at the fields. The ground there was trembling, as if whole armies of monsters were already climbing out of it, but there were no monsters in sight.

      Brendan waited a moment. No dangerous plants were climbing the uncultivated ground to chase him. Here, then, was the place to take a break. In the sky, the moon was just shining, framed by a scattering of stars. Brendan only now realized how tired he was. He had no pillow or blanket, but he did have a bundle of belongings. Brendan put it under his head instead of a pillow.

      «We’ll get you, you impudent thief!» hissed the vines from a distant field, or were they women’s voices? Through the haze of sleep Brendan saw beautiful embittered girls in wreaths of leaves and grapes. And there were a variety of monsters, small and large, galloping haphazardly across the fields. It was like a coven and a preparation for a war of infernal creatures against all mankind.

      There were vague threats, like, «We’ll get you, boy!» to the sleeping Brendan.

      «You’d better be quiet. I like silence at night,» he wanted to reply, but his tongue couldn’t roll with the fatigue. He was exhausted from running through the magical fields.

      He had a strange dream: both frightening and pleasant. In the dream, the evil creatures were talking about something in the fields, pointing at him with their claws. Against the background of the monsters a marvelous image flashed across his mind: a girl with braids the color of ripe wheat and azure eyes. Just like the one he had seen in the cavalcade with the knights. This time she was alone, not counting the living vines behind her. She leaned over him, rustling her luxurious brocade gown, and tugged at his shoulder as if to awaken him. But if he woke up, he would never see her again. She exists only in dreams. Yes, she is too beautiful to be true.

      «Rachelina! My name is Rachelina,» she repeated several times.

      When Brendan awoke, there were scratches on his shoulder. A wild cat must have scratched it.

      The Green Well

      Barely a crack of dawn came when the rough activity in the fields came to a halt. Maybe if the sun rises, the bad things in the fields go to sleep. Brendan awoke the next morning convinced that what had happened to him that night was a joke of the devil. They say it often frightens travelers in deserted places. There are even tales of wandering fires that lure lonely travelers into swamps or precipices.

      One must be more careful in the future, that is, travel during the day and not at night. He was in such a hurry to get as far away from Aluar as possible, that he did not calculate his own strength or time. His tired body ached as if it had been beaten.

      Good thing there were no more fields ahead. Otherwise, the sight of rye and wheat was already making him sick. It was a nervous reaction! The green meadows didn’t look like magic, yet Brendan stepped very carefully through them. There might be a hole under the grass, and if you fell into it, you’d go straight to the underworld, where the creepy creatures lived.

      A few miles of the road passed in complete tranquility. The sun warmed his skin pleasantly, but by noon it was getting too hot. Brendan was thirsty, looked for a flask of wine in his bundle, and found it was gone. He must have dropped it while running through the enchanted fields at night. Or perhaps a drinking fiend had stolen it.

      The devil had done him a great disservice. His throat was dry, and there was nowhere to get water. He wondered how far to walk to the nearest village, where there is a well?

      As soon as he thought of a well, it suddenly appeared in the meadow, as if from under the ground.

      As Brendan approached the well, he noticed that the entire well was covered in mud. Even the bucket had turned green from the mud.

      Brendan wanted to pass by, but a scaly green tentacle suddenly deftly coiled itself around his neck and drew him to the well.

      Who would have thought the serpent on the blockhouse would be alive!

      «Excuse me, I didn’t mean to touch anything!» Brendan hoped that the well guard, like the scarecrow in the field, understood human speech. Though at the sight of someone hissing and dragon-faced, there was little hope of that. «I am not a thief by any means! I had no ill intentions toward your well, that is, the house in which